Only two dozen fae remain, though I can’t be sure. Magic continues to batter my shields from all angles, and Lunaria can’t keep herself from the fight, her protective instincts making her absolutely feral. She swipes fae across the chest with her claws. The deep gouges slow them down but don’t stop them entirely. Thorne stands anxiously next to the throne, desire to intervene written clearly across his expression. Several times he steps toward the fight with light gathered in his hands, only to step back. I need to focus, keep my attention away from him, but he’s like a beacon to my magic with all that aether gathered around him.

A blonde female uses her speed to slice Lunaria’s side. It doesn’t bother the cat at all, likely a shallow cut, but I scream in fury, the room shaking with my ire. My eyes lock on Thorne’s, communicating my desire to him instantly with no words. He nods. I see a subtle ray of light appear at Lunaria’s side, lapping against the wound gently until it’s healed.

My brief focus on Lunaria and Thorne costs me, and Krantz has moved in closer, a dagger in each hand. I will them to crumble, but they don’t. Surprise crosses my features, and Krantz smirks. “Some of us have our own secrets, witch,” he hisses before swiping the blade toward my stomach. I block the blow, but just barely. Krantz whips around me, slicing my arm. It’s the first time anyone other than Thorne has spilled my blood in a very long time, and I erupt in fury.

“Get on your knees,” I bellow with the aether-voice, this time with no guilt at using the magic. Krantz hesitates for a moment, like he’s somehow immune to the voice, before dropping to his knees. Something about the movement looks voluntarily, unlike the stilted movements of those around him. About a dozen pairs of hate-filled eyes stare up at me from the ground as I walk slowly toward the group.

“This isn’t the last time you will see us,” Krantz hisses.

I’m about to command them to turn on one another, compel them to slit each other’s throats, my loathing of using the aether-voice in that way be damned. I hesitate for barely a breath, calculating the benefit of keeping them alive for questioning or killing them now. Before I can act, those left alive disappear. They’ve aerstepped out of the palace.

I roar with rage. Thorne appears at my side, magic burned away.